


Memory Lane

by loosescrew



Category: The Breakfast Club (1985)
Genre: F/M, Minor Original Character(s), Post-High School
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 05:13:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loosescrew/pseuds/loosescrew
Summary: He’d been looking forward to a day off—one he damn well deserved after working almost three weeks straight. Instead, he was here, back in Shermer High, trying to ignore his minds’ road trip down memory lane.





	Memory Lane

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is purely... purely... just purely self indulgent. I'm not sorry.
> 
> Re-written as of 3/16/2018
> 
> If there’s any asterisks it’s ‘cause my writing program on Mac has italics set up like that. I tend to copy and paste and fix it through here but sometimes they get by me!

High school reunions were stupid. John hadn’t been to one but he’d watched enough television and seen enough movies. They were clearly overdramatized but it wouldn’t stop him from thinking it.  
  
He could still remember the smell of dirty socks. Blue banners outlined in gold lettering decorated the aisle. Even the chairs were blue. The gymnasium’s bleachers were packed. His parents weren’t there but Brian was; he sat next to Claire’s parents. Her mom sent him a scowl when John waved.  
  
The kid that was supposed to sit between him and Andrew bailed. Probably sick or something. He got stuck sitting next to him. Andrew’s cheeks were tinged in red from holding his laughter. John wouldn’t stop commenting the entire time Vernon was on the podium, spouting sentiment not even he believed in. His hawk eyes shot glares down at him.  
  
When Vernon sat with the rest of the staff the tassel became his occupation. It wasn’t fun like bothering Brian or Claire—especially Claire. Back then, that pristine princess was always on his mind. She sat a few rows behind them, near Allison, probably looking down at her nails and sighing in dissatisfaction at how long it was taking.  
  
John shook his head, trying to get his head out of the clouds. He’d been looking forward to a day off—one he damn well deserved after working almost three weeks straight. Instead, he was here, back in Shermer High, trying to ignore his minds’ road trip down memory lane.  
  
Turning the corner, _she_ was there. Still little, but a taller—tall enough for her head to reach his torso. Her long, dark hair was wrapped up in a messy pony tail. She stared at the casing full of athletic trophies, swaying from side to side.  
  
“Hey.” He called out. She turned, spooked. “You lost?”  
  
Her lips spread into a goofy grin, missing some teeth. “Hi, Johnny.”  
  
“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself, kiddo.” He looked around though he knew the hallways in this part of the school were empty. “Where’re your parents?”  
  
“At the thingy.” She shrugged. She still carried around the pink dinosaur-looking thing John had bought her the day she was born. “Dad’s talking to all his friends. It’s so boring.”  
  
“You shouldn’t have gone off without telling ‘em.” He reprimanded. “I’m sure your old man’s gonna bark up a storm when he notices.”  
  
She frowned, blue eyes big like a pugs’. “Are you gonna tell?”  
  
John stopped right next to her. “Of course not.”  
  
She grinned again in a way that was so much like Allison’s. “’Kay.”  
  
He couldn’t help but give a small smile. “So, what’re you looking at, Zoey?”  
  
“This.” She pointed, finger flat against the glass. “That guy kinda looks like daddy.”  
  
The three shelves inside were decorated in trophies. Most of them belonged to the basketball team. Medals were dangling off the edges in a semi-artistic way that would've made Allison curl her lip in disgust.  
  
On the far left was the only trophy—extremely small compared to the rest—that belonged to the wrestling team. It was won by Andrew Clarke in 1985, with a professional photo right next to it.  
  
“Wasn’t he regular chip off the ole block?”  
  
Zoey’s head cocked to the side. “I don’t get it.”  
  
“Get what?”  
  
“He looks… He doesn’t look happy. He looks sad. Granpa looks more happy than he does. Why?”  
  
In the photo, Andrew was smiling. His father was on the right and his coach on the left. All three of them held parts of the trophy. But in his eyes, and in his heart, Andrew was anything but ecstatic. Andrew’s father might as well have won the championship.  
  
“You’re right.”  
  
Zoey turned to him. “But… Why? He won. That’s why he got the trophy. He beat everyone else. Why wouldn’t he be happy? I’m always happy whenever I win my games. Is it ‘cause of—”  
  
“Whoa, breathe.” John held his palms up. “One question at a time.”  
  
Zoey listened, sucking in a deep breath. “Why is he sad?”  
  
“’Cause he hated wrestling.” John squat so that he was level with her. He fixed her lopsided sweater and zipped it up. “Your old man was only in it to make your grandpa happy.”  
  
“Did it?”  
  
“Kinda?” John tried to fix his tie. Claire was always better at this stuff than him. “Your old man got something called a scholarship after that game. He got to go to school for free for next four years but he never finished.”  
  
“Why not?”  
  
“You happened, Zo.”  
  
Her eyes found the floor, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Oh.”  
  
“Don’t look like that.” John poked her forehead, and she looked up with a mean pout. “You’re a good thing, Zoey.”  
  
Her angry brows unfurled. “Really?”  
  
“You were a wake-up call he needed. When your mom found out she was having you, your old man finally realized there’s so much _more_  to his life than pleasing your grandpa.”  
  
“… And mommy?”  
  
“I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to her.”  
  
Zoey smiled, facing the casing again. “Hey, Johnny? What about his clothes? Why’re they so funny?”  
  
“Those are tights. They’re very uncomfortable.”  
  
“Why’d he wear them?”  
  
“It was his required uniform.” John licked away his smirk, standing up. “I told him lots of times he should quit and save himself the lifelong embarrassment… Yet… Here we are.”  
  
“Hm… Mommy isn’t in here.” Zoey tiptoed backwards, craning her neck. “You, too.”  
  
“Nah.” John folded his arms over his chest. “Your mom and I weren’t athletic types. We had other, more _special_ skills.”  
  
Zoey blinked. “So drawing isn’t a sport?”  
  
“In your mom’s head it is.”  
  
“What about you?”  
  
John shrugged. “I was good at lots of things.”  
  
Zoey frowned. “That’s not very specific.”  
  
John smirked. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”  
  
“Johnny!” Zoey curled her hands into fists, stomping her feet that reminded him so much of Claire. “Why don't you tell me now!”  
  
He ruffled her bangs “You’re too little, Z. Not to mention your old man would have my head nice and roasted for dinner if I ever told you.”  
  
She slapped his hand away, frowning deeply. “I am _not_! I’m seven and a half years old. Dad doesn’t have to know. It’s not _fair_! Nobody tells me anything.”  
  
“Relax, Z. I’ll tell you someday.”  
  
Zoey stared him down. “You promise?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“Fine.”  
  
John rolled up the sleeve of his dress shirt, checking the plastic watch. He’d gotten a gold one for Christmas last year from his wife but with his arduous job he opted not to wear it. He didn’t like to damage nice things. He didn’t even wear his ring. Or Claire’s earring. He kept it in a jewelry box though those were the only pieces of jewelry he owned.  
  
“We should head back.”  
  
“But _why_?” Zoey whined though her small hand took his large one. “Being out here is so much cooler.”  
  
“I _could_ show you something pretty cool.” He taunted. “Only if you want.”  
  
She looked up at him with eagerness. “Yes!”  
  
He tugged her hand gently as she placed the dinosaur bear in her armpit. “Let’s go.”  
  
John still remembered every nook and cranny in Shermer High. He’d gotten caught too many times by Vernon to _not_  remember.

Not much had changed. The walls were still sickeningly white like a prison. The air still felt confined and heavy. Some of his hideout spots had been found and closed off. That didn’t mean there weren’t new ones. Anything could be remade.  
  
Given the cleanliness of the place, Carl must’ve retired. _Damn_. The only other thing he’d been looking forward to was seeing Carl. He’d gotten well acquainted with Carl during his two month’s of detention. John even shared his doobage with him.

He was, however, greeted with someone else’s familiar silhouette. Vernon tided the flaps of his suit in front of a glass casing. He still loved grey suits. And he was completely oblivious to his surroundings.  
  
“Hey there, Dick. How’s it going?”  
  
“Jesus!” Vernon jumped. He whirled around. Vernon looked so much older than before. His tan skin was tinged in yellow. The wrinkles etched onto his face pressed deeper than before.  
  
Despite his appearance, his stern eyes hadn’t changed. “… _Bender_? God Almighty—is that _you_?”  
  
“Aw, Dick. Don’t tell me you’ve gone and forgotten about me?” John said with mock sadness. “After all we’ve been through together? I’m hurt.”  
  
Vernon’s infamous scowl was back. “I see your tasteful personality hasn’t changed a bit.”  
  
“I like to think I’ve changed in other ways.”  
  
“I can tell.” Vernon cleared his throat. “I hardly recognized you with the beard and without all the… the hair.”  
  
“Yeah…” John ran a hand through his head, feeling a tuff of hair instead of his locks. “I had a Fabio thing going on for a long time. My wife still isn’t happy about all my hair being gone. She actually liked it.”  
  
“I don’t.” Zoey’s small voice said. He’d almost forgotten she was here. “You look nicer without it, Johnny.”  
  
“Tell that to her.”  
  
Vernon rubbed his eyes, moaning in agony. “My God, this isn’t going _away_.”  
  
“I know, I know.” John flashed a devious smirk. “I clean up nicely, don’t I?”  
  
“You mean to tell me you’re…” Vernon struggled, coughing violently. “Not only married but spawned?”  
  
“Recently married, but this critter here isn’t mine.” He indicated with their joint hands. “She belongs to some good pals of mine. She decided to sneak off when they weren’t looking.”  
  
“Do you plan on having children?” He asked hesitantly.  
  
“Whenever she wants, sure.”  
  
“And you’re in the work force?”  
  
“I’m a cop.”  
  
Vernon blinked, silent. “Wow.”  
  
John nodded in agreement. “Yeah... Poor white trash me turned into a cop so that other kids in my situation won’t turn out bad. Go figure.”  
  
“No, it’s…” Vernon struggled, sucking in his urge to cough again. Now that John studied him, he looked so much thinner too. His veiny hands trembled. “It’s amazing. I’m happy for you, John. Truly.”  
  
“Thanks, Dick. That’s oddly comforting coming from you.”  
  
Vernon’s eyes narrowed. “This is a serious moment, John. Would you drop the name?”  
  
“Not a chance.”  
  
John never forgot Vernon’s venomous words, the same way he’d never forgotten his father. How could he, after everything they’d put him through? Though he’d been eighteen at the time, and far away from Shermer, it was like he never left.  
  
Words cut and they hurt more than fists. It’s taken him years to heal. He was a prisoner to his thoughts. Sometimes he thought he’d made no progress. Somedays it felt impossible to get out of bed.  
  
But now? It didn’t hurt him. If this was Vernon’s way of apologizing he’d take it. At least he’d get something from him… unlike his father. His father was dead and buried.  
  
Vernon scoffed, his lip quirking just the slightest as he walked past them. “Well, then. It was good to see you. Enjoy your time.”  
  
John stared at Vernon’s retreating back, until it disappeared around the corner. His walk was sluggish, so unlike his usual confident. Something told him he’d never see Vernon again.  
  
“Johnny?” Zoey’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts again. She needed to stop being so quiet like Allison. “Who was that? Why’d you call him that? Isn’t that a bad word?”  
  
John sighed. “He was my vice principal. His name’s Richard. ‘Dick’ is a nickname for that.”  
  
“ _Ooh_.” She exaggerated in wonder.  
  
“Yeah, but, listen.“ John lowered his voice. “Don’t start saying that until you’re older, okay? At least twelve. Not only would your old man have me for dinner but your mom would bake whatever’s left of me for dessert… And she likes her things black like her soul.”  
  
“Mommy’s weird, isn’t she?”  
  
John smirked, tugging her again. “You have no idea.”  
  
Zoey shrugged innocently, following. “But I love her.”  
  
“It’s what makes her special.”  
  
Vernon left the doors to the offices wide open and John took it as an invitation. The ball of nostalgia was small earlier. Stepping foot into this library made it expand and almost explode.  
  
The walls were recently retouched. The smell of paint lingered in the air, making his nose scrunch. The couches in the back were upgraded, as were the computers. The tables and chairs in front of the grand space were still the same though.  
  
Zoey let go of his hand. John took the opportunity to hop on the railing. The same exact spot that he used to antagonize Andrew and Claire for the earlier hours of that Saturday detention. It was good to know that old age hadn’t gotten to him yet. Not much had changed, yet things were definitely different.  
  
“This isn’t very cool, Johnny.” Zoey frowned, pulling out one of the chairs and plopping on it. “It’s just a library. All schools have one.”  
  
“Ah, but this library’s special.”  
  
She didn’t look impressed. “How?”  
  
“Your parents met here.”  
  
Her face brightened. “Really? Where?”  
  
John pointed with his untied boot. Dress shoes were more appropriate but Hell would have to freeze before he’d ever stop wearing them.  
  
“Your old man sat there, right next to Claire. You’re actually sitting in Brian’s seat. I was here, and your mom was behind Brian.”  
  
Her head went from side to side, eyebrows furrowed. “Why’d they sit so far? They always sit together, even at Thanksgiving at granpa’s.”  
  
“They didn’t know each other yet, Z.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
He looked away, smiling fondly. It was weird to think he was twenty eight when not a day went by that he didn’t think he was still seventeen.

“Let’s just say… It’s been added onto the list of things I’ll tell you about when you’re older.”  
  
Zoey’s shoulders slouched comically, defeated. “I’m _so_  tired of hearing that.”  
  
“Think of it this way, Zo: not every kid gets to be in the same exact spot their parents met. Consider yourself lucky.”  
  
“ _Yeah_.” She drawled. “But it’s no fun when everyone keeps secrets.”  
  
“It’s not a secret. I said I’ll tell you when you’re ready.”  
  
“I’m ready _now_.” She countered stubbornly.  
  
A giggle interrupted them. “How’d I know I’d find you in here?”  
  
Claire leaned against the reception desk, still looking every bit as style and grace as she had when they’d met. Her once short hair was now to her shoulders, ironed straight just for today. And that black dress made John want to do all the things they used to do back in high school.  
  
“It’s sad to know I’ve become predictable.”  
  
Claire rolled her eyes, walking towards them. “You’ve always been predictable to me. I knew that if you weren’t in Vernon’s storage closet you’d be here.”  
  
John sneered. “I _only_ spent the remainder of my junior year stuck in this vacancy.”  
  
“And I _only_ spent those two months sneaking you out for a few hours." She countered easily. "Andy’s gone crazy. I think he’s about a few minutes from burning down the school.”  
  
“After living with Allison for as long as he has? I can’t say I’m shocked he’s finally cracked and gone mental.”  
  
“Hey, Zoey!” Zoey threw her arms around Claire’s slim waist. Claire placed one across her back and untangled Zoey’s hair from the pony tail to fix it. “When’d you get so big? God, I still remember when you were just a baby and learning how to walk.”  
  
“I’ve missed you!”  
  
“Me, too.” Her fingers combed through Zoey’s hair. “I’m sorry it’s been so long.”  
  
“It’s okay, Clarice—” John snorted at Claire’s horrified expression. “—I know you’re busy with work and stuff.”  
  
Claire’s lips moved but nothing came out. She managed to fix Zoey’s hair to a presentable state. “… Clarice is my grandma’s name. Please, call me Claire… Or anything else, really—anything _but_  Clarice.”  
  
Zoey pulled away, looking at John in total confusion. “But… Johnny? Didn’t you say Clarice is her real name?”  
  
“It is.”  
  
Claire glared at him. “No, it _isn’t_!”  
  
“Listen, Claire, it’s not my fault you got stuck with a family name that happens to be a variation of Clarice.”  
  
Claire’s brow rose. “When’d you figure that out?”  
  
“I gotta be informed if I’m gonna make accurate remarks.”  
  
Claire groaned. “Whatever. Your tie is crooked. Let me fix it.”  
  
“Who cares?” John whined though he hopped down, letting her come close. No matter how much time passed, he’d always have some magnetic pull to her. She was the only girl he’d ever really loved. “Nobody’s gonna notice.”  
  
“I did, didn’t I?” Claire challenged, taking her gaze off his lips.  
  
John scoffed. “’Cause you care about this unnecessary stuff.”  
  
“It’s not unnecessary when you need to make impressions.” She started undoing it. “You were telling her about what happened in here?”  
  
“Not all the dirty details…” Her subtle, flowery perfume filled his nostrils and John had to restrain himself from burying his nose in her neck. “But some of ‘em.”  
  
Claire looked over her shoulder. “Did he tell you how mean he was to me?”  
  
“Why would Johnny be mean to you?” She asked, slowly.  
  
Claire tied the knot. The constriction nearly made him wheeze. “He said I hate a fat girls’ name, embarrassed me, and made me cry almost the whole time we were here.”  
  
“Why would you do that? Claire’s too pretty to cry. She should only cry happy tears.”  
  
“Don’t turn the kid against me, Claire.” He said, strained. He wanted to wipe that smirk off her face in other ways that weren’t appropriate in front of Zoey. “I’ve told you a million times that I’m sorry.”  
  
“He was also really mean to your dad and Brian.” Claire continued, loosening the knot enough that it didn’t cause him discomfort. “He thought it was so funny. He was nice to your mom, though. Just a little.”  
  
“I dunno...” Zoey’s brows furrowed. “Johnny’s nice to everyone.”  
  
Claire finished, stepping back and folding her arms across her chest. “He is now but he wasn’t before. I guess a few years with me straightened him out.”  
  
John hooked his fingers around the silk tie, loosening the knot more. “I thought we were past this, _Claire_.”  
  
“We are, _John_ , but there’s stuff you’d never let me forget. Consider us even.”  
  
“You gotta stop hanging around me.”  
  
“Can’t now.” She shrugged innocently. “We’re married.”  
  
John scoffed, rolling his eyes. They landed on the clock ticking away. “We should go. For real this time, Zoey.”  
  
“But, Johnny—“  
  
Claire beckoned with her arm out. “C’mon.”  
  
“But it’s so boring.” She clutched the dinosaur in her arms tightly. “There’s nobody to play with. I don’t wanna go back. There’s nothing else you can show me?”  
  
“Nothing that’s legal.” John grumbled.  
  
“I know, honey, but you have to.” Claire said gently, bending down to her level. “Your father’s been looking everywhere for you.”  
  
“He is?”  
  
“Yeah, he really is.”  
  
Zoey bit her lip. “Is he... mad at me?”  
  
“No.” Claire fixed the wisps framing Zoey’s face. “Just worried about you.”  
  
Zoey looked down, taking Claire’s hand. “Fine. I’ll go.”  
  
Someone John didn’t expect to see rushed through the office like a whirlwind as they were making their way out. He’d gotten a little taller after high school. And packing muscles.  
  
“Hey! Have you guys seen—Oh.” His green eyes blinked. “Never mind.”  
  
“Hi, Bri-guy.”  
  
John’s lips spread into a grin. “Big Bri! The fuck are you doing here?”  
  
“ _John_!” Claire hissed, covering Zoey’s ears.  
  
Brian blushed, hand scratching the back of his head. “Vernon emailed me about being an event coordinator.”  
  
“No shit? Even if you weren’t part of the graduating class?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
“So you were in the gym this whole time?”  
  
“You would’ve known if you went in with me instead of disappearing.” Claire muttered.  
  
Andrew came busting through the threshold, very much disheveled and a little angry. Allison was right behind him. For being a little league coach, Andrew was out of breath.

They both hadn’t changed much since graduation, besides having a kid young and getting married. Allison was still the same pretty mess and Andrew was still a dumb jock.  
  
Allison nudged his arm. “Told you there was nothing to worry about, Sporto.”  
  
“Hi, mom. Hi, dad.” Zoey said weakly.  
  
Andrew finally regained his breath, holding out his arms. “C’mere, munchkin.”  
  
She let go of Claire’s hand, walking slowly into Andrew’s arms. He scooped her up effortlessly, holding her eye level to him.

“You’re just like mom, you know? Always disappearing without saying anything. You gotta stop that, Zoe. What if something happened to you? I don’t know what I’d do. I’m about to take off Buzz’s collar and put it on you instead.”  
  
Zoey put her head on his shoulder, peering at him with his same blue eyes. “I’m sorry, daddy. I’ll be better. I promise.”  
  
Andrew pulled his lips into a tight line, his anger dissipating. Claire and Allison held their giggles. Even Brian held back a smile. Zoey was total daddy’s girl and had Andrew wrapped around her little fingers.  
  
“… I’ll let it go.”  
  
“Of course you will.”  
  
Andrew shot John a glare. “You stay out of it.”

John shrugged innocently. “I’m just saying.”

Andrew sighed, softening considerably. “Hey, thanks for looking out for her, man. I owe you. Again.”  
  
“Any time,” He replied nonchalantly. “You know I like her.”  
  
Andrew balanced Zoey on his hip. “So, have we decided where to meet up?”  
  
“What about the pizzeria a few blocks from here?” Brian chimed. “Is eight good with everyone? It’ll give us time to rest.”  
  
“Can’t today.” Claire said with a slight pout. “My father wants John and I over for dinner.”  
  
“Fuck.” John groaned. “I forgot that’s today.”  
  
“Hey.” Andrew warned, placing a hand on Zoey’s ear. Her eyes were drifting closed. “Let’s watch the mouth.”  
  
“Well, what about sometime during the week?” Brian offered. “I took a vacation.”  
  
“ _Finally_?”  
  
Brian blushed. “Finally.”  
  
“No more postcards?”  
  
“Not for two weeks.”  
  
“Good. I don’t think there’s any more space left on my fridge. Claire refuses of let go of ‘em.”  
  
“I meant it when I said I don’t like to throw anything away.”  
  
“I keep it in a box.” Allison said, demonstrating the size with her hands. “It’s in our closet.”  
  
“She won’t throw them out, either.” Andrew rocked Zoey gently. “Guess girls really aren’t that different after all.”  
  
“You’d know all about that now.” John said snidely. “Don’t cha, Andrew?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m outta here. I’ll meet you in the car.” Andrew kissed Allison’s cheek and started heading towards the door. “Bye.”  
  
“Bye, Andrew!” John called out. “Don’t make me wait another four years before I hear from you again. You should call me later—but not after eleven. Claire doesn’t appreciate late night phone calls.”  
  
Claire slapped his arm. The last thing John saw from Andrew before he disappeared out the threshold was his eye roll.  
  
Allison’s eyes glazed over, a fond smile plaguing her lips. “It’s really been almost four years since we all last saw each other?”  
  
“Yeah.” Brian nodded with a solemn smile. “And ten since we met. Time flies by fast, doesn’t it?”

“It really does.” Claire added. “I remember when you used to live with us.”  
  
“Claire was _devastated_  when you got that job offer, Big Bri. You should’ve seen her.”  
  
Claire gave a look of agreement. “It was nice having a guy around that wasn’t John.”  
  
John knew he took a moment too long to ask. “So, what’re you trying to say?”  
  
“That you’re the biggest piece of work we know.” Allison responded.  
  
“Nobody’s as weird as you, Al.”  
  
Allison rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She’d traded in her two pounds of clothes for something more form fitting along the road of life. That didn’t stop her from her continued bizarreness.  
  
Claire’s smile faded. “Have you talked to your parents, Brian?”  
  
“No.” Brian bit his lip. “I talk to my sister when I can but that’s it.”  
  
“Oh, Brian…” Claire trailed off sadly.  
  
“There’s _nothing_ wrong with you.” Allison squeezed his broad shoulder, comforting. “Don’t ever forget that. You’ve done a lot of great things they’d be proud of.”  
  
“Yeah, I know… It’s just hard.” His lip trembled. “I _want_  to talk to them, to ask them how they’re doing, to tell them about my day, to share my accomplishments. But I can’t. They don’t even bother picking up the phone anymore, you know. I don’t understand why they’re so angry over my sexuality.”  
  
“We’re always here for you.” Claire said gently. “We have two empty rooms now. You’ll be a lot more comfortable than before.”  
  
“She'd love having you back.” John added. “You guys could wake up early and burn the kitchen like you used to.”  
  
That managed a small laugh from Brian. “We were pretty awful, weren’t we? The only decent thing I could make—still can—is spaghetti.”  
  
“We were the worst.” Claire replied with a smile. “I think we gave John food poisoning a couple of times.”  
  
“I remember.” Allison pipped in. “He called me some nights and said he’d rather eat my food.”  
  
“Ya know, I don’t recall ever saying that... But considering how many times I was doped up on meds 'cause they tried to fuckin’ kill me? I wouldn’t be surprised if I did.”  
  
Brian laughed the loudest, his happiness reaching his eyes. Even his cheeks turned pink though that wasn’t ever hard to do. He slowly sobered, looking at his shiny dress shoes.  
  
“You know…” He started, melancholy. “I think without you guys, I—“  
  
“Don’t say it.” John cut in. “It’s never been an option.”  
  
Brian paused. He relaxed, giving a curt, appreciative nod. “I’m just… grateful. You guys are my family, my real family—regardless if I see you every day or not.”  
  
“Long as I’m the dad.” John replied. His eyes darted between Allison and Brian. “ _God_. That means you guys are my kids. I’m real ashamed of you, Allison. I taught you better than that. You could’ve done so much better than that jockstrap.”  
  
Allison stuck out her tongue childishly. “But I love him, _dad_.”  
  
John’s lip curled.  
  
Brian smiled. “So, uh, I guess I’ll see you guys soon?”  
  
“I’ll call you tomorrow.” Claire responded, grabbing a random paper from the desk and writing down a series of numbers. Their home number. “Hopefully, this case I’ve been working on will be wrapped up Monday. You said two weeks, right? That’s more than enough.”  
  
She handed it to Brian. He folded it neatly, placing it inside the pocket of his dress pants. “Good. I hope everything goes well.”  
  
“Me, too.” She bit her lop nervously. “It’s my first case alone without my father shadowing me.”  
  
“You’ll be great, Claire. Trust me.”

“Thanks, Brian. I appreciate it.”

“C’mon, Allison.” Brian beckoned with his arm. “I’ll walk you out.”  
  
“‘Kay.” Allison took his arm, waving back at them on her way out. “Bye, guys. See you later.”  
  
Claire shoved his shoulder when they were gone. The action caught him off guard. “How could you teach Zoey that? That’s _not_  my name!”  
  
John brushed invisible grim off his jacket. “Payback for that time you told her my name was Bender.”  
  
“What’s so wrong with that? It _is_ your last name.”  
  
“Not to you guys. I’m cool with everyone else calling me Bender—long as it’s not you, Allison, or Zoey.”  
  
Claire’s glare turned soft. She almost smiled. “You know, it’s cute you let her call you Johnny. You don’t even let me call you that.”  
  
John looked away. “Just want that name to have new meaning, now that my old man’s gone.”  
  
“I see…” Claire bit her lip. “Have you talked to your mom?”  
  
“How? I dunno where she even is and good riddance.”  
  
Claire sighed, dropping the subject. It was touchy and neither of them liked to get into it. He'd talked about it enough in therapy and didn’t want to keep talking about it outside of it.  
  
Claire grabbed his wrist instead of his hand. “Let’s go.”  
  
He didn’t budge. “Go where? The real trip down memory lane’s in there.”  
  
Claire looked. The grey door to Vernon’s closet practically begged them to go back in. “I’m _not_  going in there again.”  
  
“Aw, _Cherry_ , why not?” He probed, leaning in close. “You didn’t mind back then.”  
  
“I was a stupid teenager back then.” She said easily, leaning away. “And it was only that one time.”  
  
“Twice, actually. And the second time was even better than the first.” Claire didn’t look pleased. ”Come _on_ , Claire! That’s what we do when we’re kids. We do stupid shit. A lot of it. That’s how memories get made.”  
  
“But we’re adults now, John.”  
  
“… *So*? Adults aren’t allowed to do stupid things, too? Our hearts didn’t die out, you know.”  
  
Claire’s lip quirked. “I knew you cared.”  
  
“A little bit.” He admitted reluctantly.  
  
“Seriously, though.” She tugged on his arm again and he still didn’t move. “We shouldn’t. We’ll be late.”  
  
“I’m sure _daddy_ wouldn’t mind.”  
  
“ _George_  wouldn’t but mother will.”  
  
“All the more reason to be late.” Claire pursed her lips, adding nothing more. He caressed her arm, reveling in the smoothness of her skin. “For old time’s sake. Please?”  
  
Claire shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”  
  
John wasted no time in hoisting her up the wall once the door was closed. The room was still as congested as it’d been ten years ago. The pile that he’d stacked to climb to the vent had been removed and taken out, along with one of the tables.  
  
She wrapped her legs around him easily, having done it hundreds of times. She’d probably had his body memorized the same way he had hers. Her dress automatically rode up and he his hand grasped the back of her thigh, grazing her ass, to keep her steady.  
  
Her skin was always soft. And her hair. Not to mention her lips. Her whimpers were silenced by his tongue. It’d been a long time, and probably forever, but John could still kiss her all day if he had the choice.  
  
He thought her hands would go for his head. She used to pull and tug his hair. Now that it was gone she never knew exactly where to put them. Her palms found they way to his shoulders again, pushing lightly.

He pulled away. “You good?”  
  
“Yeah.” She breathed, licking her lips and clearing her throat. “I just… We should’ve had this conversation years ago.”  
  
“Which one?”  
  
“About kids.” Her arms hung loosely around his shoulders. “Do you want them?”  
  
He couldn’t help the way his heart skipped a beat. “You’re—“  
  
“No.” She smiled coyly. “It’s just a question.”  
  
He searched her eyes. “Claire, I dunno how to tell you this but I’ve been ready for kids since I volunteered to babysit Zoey.”  
  
Claire’s brow rose in disbelief. “So, you were ready for kids at twenty?”  
  
He positioned her better, nearly groaning at the way she slid perfectly against him. “It’s not rocket science.”  
  
“I thought you offered ‘cause you had nothing better to do?”  
  
“Who says it can’t be both?” He moved her curtain of hair away from her neck with his other hand. “I mean, look at how well that excuse worked out for Allison.”  
  
“How do you still have such a smart mouth?”  
  
He nipped at her neck. Her fingers digging into his shoulders. “I could put it to good use. Who’s to say we can’t start the process now?”  
  
“ _Ew_!” She shrieked, squirming, and John chuckled against her skin. “I’m _not_  conceiving a child in a place like this.”

“It was just a question.”

Maybe a small part of them would always be seventeen—no matter how much time passed. John hoped that whatever else came their way they’d continue to go through it. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, I just really like the idea of John being good with kids.


End file.
